


Parasites

by cornwallace



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornwallace/pseuds/cornwallace
Summary: And all your thoughts - they rot.
Relationships: Antoine D'Coolette/Bunnie Rabbot
Kudos: 5





	Parasites

Parasites

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Droplets of rain splash against the stones.   
I can't be here.  
I can't stay here.

I have to leave right now

*****************  
"Oh my stars"  
*****************

Just how long has it been exactly? I know it's been a very long time, but it feels like yesterday. Almost feels like it never happened at all.  
Things like this don't seem real, you know? Sometimes they take time to sink in. A lot of time in some cases. In mine, I still don't think it's hit me, yet. Not really.  
I don't know. It's complicated.  
And weird.   
Sitting with my back propped up against this tree trunk. There's significance in this setting. This is where it happened. Or, this is where it started. The shimmering ring pool sits stagnant before me.

This is where life gave me meaning.

Meaning in another.

It doesn't seem real, but I still cry every time I think about it.

*****************  
It is here he would stand, every day and every night. Guarding this ring pool for a man he hated, he would lean against the tree. Lean against this tree.   
This tree right here. This tree that I'm leaning against.

And the pool sits still, dead and useless now. There's no Sonic, so no need for rings. The power stone was donated to the kind people of Lower Mobius by the generous Princess Sally Acorn, who has since moved from Knothole with most of the others to Lower Mobius. Princess Sally took a liking to that Griff fellow and moved along. I can't blame her. Good for her for moving on after Sonic's death, you know? I wish I could accomplish the same.

But I am too weak. Too scared to move on.

Even if I could, not a person in the world would compare. No, not to Antoine.

He was one of a kind.

*****************  
My memories fade. As much as I try to hold onto them, I simply can't after so long. It has been over sixty years. I don't exactly know how long. It's hard to keep track. Who could keep a photographic memory that long?   
I can't remember his face. I remember his vague outline, but I want to remember his face so badly. It's agonizing, not being able to remember the one you love.

The funny thing is, I can remember certain moments of our life together almost perfectly; except for his face. I can't picture it. It's just a blur.

I miss him so much. I just want to see him one more time.

Just one last caress.

If only

*****************  
Here he would lean. Right here, as I'm doing now. I can't exactly recall when I approached him first. At first I would just flirt with him. He seemed interested and welcome of the company I provided, but he was always a little distant.   
Distracted maybe. Like he always had something on his mind.

He didn't seem happy. I wanted to help him. I remember feeling sorry for him. All he did was stand there day and night, guardin' that ring pool. Not many folks would stop and talk to the poor fellow. Always seemed so unhappy. Always seemed so bored.

There wasn't a time I went out there he wasn't leanin' on this here tree.

I think I mighta caught him on a break once or twice, maybe. Like he was gettin' somethin' to eat, or maybe using the outhouse. But it wasn't often he would break.

I never met no one strong as Antoine. Not even Sonic. He may have been fast, but he didn't put up with near as much as Antoine put up with. And Antoine didn't even get nothin' for it.

So I started to do things for him here and there, you know. Bring him drinks and snacks. Talk to him. I'd try to get him talkin' about his life and feelings. But he always seemed so distant then.

Like he was scared or something, you know?

Scared to open up. Like he didn't like himself, or something.

I don't know. I was never much for readin' people. I grew up out in the middle of nowhere, so I didn't have too much contact with people before Knothole. He's the first person I got to know besides my parents.  
When he finally opened up, that is.

*****************  
"What are your interests?"   
"I don't know. Don't guess I have any."

His accent was always so cute.

"What? There must be something you're interested in."

"Guarding this pool, I suppose."

"Is there nothing you do besides your job."

"Some nights I sleep a few hours. Eating also occurs on a daily basis."

"That can't be all."

"I used to read a lot. Now there's nothing in our library that interests me. It's all religious nonsense. God fearing drivel."

And that's about when Antoine started to show his true colors.

*****************  
"Tell me one time god has ever come through on a prayer. Tell me one time he's ever done something directly for you, to help you in some way."   
"I don't want to talk about it."

Antoine. Such a logical thinker, he can't see the spirituality involved. Don't let this misguide your opinion of him, though. I think it's part of what made him interesting. Part of what I loved about him.

Always asking questions. Always poking holes in my logic, to test the bond of faith I had. He was a crucible that I needed.

Even so, he never pushed too far. He always stopped when I told him to. He never insulted me, or my intelligence. Heavens, no. Nothing like that.

He was always so sweet about it, you know? He always had this look on his face. One you could never hate. One that I could never hate, at least.

Antoine was a very proud man. Very proud of his heritage, and very proud of his duty. He didn't require thanks or assistance. He didn't require the appreciation I felt so obligated to show him.

At least he enjoyed it, though. I think.

*****************  
There's no fluffy place in the clouds, he would say. There's no reunion in the afterlife. I would always tell him he was wrong. I would always say "I'll prove you wrong when I see you up in heaven."   
He would always laugh and kiss me. He would always tell me how much he loved me. He would always say he'd be there for me no matter what.

He said he'd be there always.

And I was stupid and selfish so I believed him.

*****************  
Antoine was always acting optimistic about our situation. Antoine was always acting optimistic about everything, really. He always found a ray of hope, a silver lining. Even if it was a fake one.  
He was all about raising morale. He'd never let anyone know how bad something was. He would always find a way to make something look a lot less threatening on the outside.   
But in truth, Antoine was a pessimist. Always fearing the worst, but after a while in Knothole, he started to suppress it. He tried to hide his fear from the rest of the Freedom Fighters. It worked, too. Even on me sometimes.

This is why he lied to me when he got sick. This is why he didn't tell anyone he was doing as bad as he was. He didn't tell anyone he had similar symptoms to a recent outbreak that had just blew over in Knothole.

I'd tell him he didn't look too good, and he would always change the subject. He'd say something like "I'm fine" or "Just a cold. Can't chance something happening to the ring machine over a cold, now can we?"

I kept telling him to go see the doctor. I was worried about it. He wasn't.

I guess that was why it was such a shock when he turned up dead, by this ring pool. Just laying there, face first in the dirt. By this same tree.

Dyalepothemia, they called it. Eats slowly away at your organs. You start vomiting up blood and bile close to your end, if you have it. So he knew. He knew he was in for it when his puke turned red. He knew what it was.

There is no cure for Dyalepothemia.

And he didn't want me to be sad, I think. He didn't want me to know how scared he was, maybe. Or perhaps he had accepted it, and just didn't want me to spend the remainder of my time with him worrying.  
He was a good man.

*****************  
He was buried in a cemetery. Nothing special for him. No murals of gratitude, like he deserved. Just a simple cross.

A simple, ironic cross made of stone, that rests upon his dead body.

I try and visit him, but I can't stand the fact that I'm standing over his decaying body. Festering with parasites.

It's raining. Fitting for the occasion.

I have to leave. I can't stay here.

I have to go someplace else. Someplace where I can try and relive the memories, instead of attempting to embrace the fact that he's gone forever.

I refuse to face it.

*****************  
The light beams through the clouds, and shines down upon this fertile land. It almost seems like heaven is shining through. Calling me.  
But I know it's all bullshit. I know it's all nonsense to keep us in line. To keep us good.  
But I don't care. I need it. It makes me feel better, so I'll blindly pursue as I see fit. I'll tell myself what I need to hear. I'll forget all about this little moment of clarity, and you probably will too.  
If you don't you won't say anything.  
You won't say anything because you know. You know that we all tell ourselves things to live comfortably. You'll know that we all need something to cling to, so we're not alone. There's comfort in false solace.  
There truly is bliss in ignorance.

The power of the imagination.

So. What now?

There's nothing anyone can say to change my mind.

Because I'll hold on to the thought of seeing you again

forever and ever

*****************  
Very soon now, seventy years will have gone by. In that seventy years, I won't have aged a day. I won't contract any diseases, either. All of this due to the robotic parts that have cursed me with immortality all these years.

I'll watch the rise and fall of everything there is to come, and someday it will all be over. For everything.

And I'll be with my Antoine once again.


End file.
